


Night

by lyrawinter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Consensual Sex, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Lysa's death, Season/Series 04, The Eyrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: Sansa is having terrible nightmares since Lysa's death. One day she asks Petyr to help her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This week I've been feeling nostalgic about Petyr and Sansa, in part due to the return of the show, so I've written this story. It isn't beta-ed so I apologize for any mistakes (English is not my first language). I'll post the second chapter, before the episode airs. I hope you enjoy it! :-)
> 
> I want to dedicate it to all the Petyr x Sansa shippers. I'm so happy to be a part of this fandom. I've met wonderful people and read amazing stories on this site. Thank you all for your kindness.

A week had passed since Lysa’s death. A week since she had grabbed Sansa by her hair and threatened to push her through the Moon Door. Sansa could still feel her aunt’s hand pressing down on her without mercy, forcing her to lean forward. She could still feel the freezing wind hurting her face and the burning sensation in her lungs while she tried to breathe. Her feet had been just a few inches from the edge. The rocks below were a sight she would never forget. 

“Whore! He is mine! MINE! All this time you’ve been trying to bewitch him. I knew it! I never let myself be fooled by your innocent look! Did you open your legs for him? Did you? What have you let him do with your young, pretty body? Answer me! Do you know what happens to people who stand between Petyr and me? Look down! Look down! Look down!”

Lysa’s words still echoed in her mind. Her voice had been filled with pure hatred. Sansa was certain that she would have died if Petyr hadn’t appeared. 

He had persuaded Lysa to let her go. He’d said that Sansa didn’t mean anything to him and that he was going to send her away. Sansa hadn’t wondered whether he was lying or not. She’d been paralyzed by fear. 

Lysa hadn’t directed her anger at Petyr. Instead she’d looked defeated, and her sobs had made Sansa shudder. “She’s just like her mother. She’ll never love you!”

Sansa had winced in pain when her aunt had dug her nails into her skin. _She wants to destroy me with her own hands. She really thinks I’ve bewitched Petyr. This is the end._ However, Lysa had shoved her aside with a growl, and Sansa had fallen to the ground. She’d curled up, trembling. 

Later when Petyr had pushed her aunt through the Moon Door, Sansa hadn’t flinched.

She’d felt as if she were in a dream.

*

Sansa woke up in the dark, confused and dripping in sweat. The wind howled outside. It reminded her of Lysa’s sobs.

 _I’m safe. She cannot hurt me anymore._

Seven nights had passed, and Sansa had barely slept since then. The memories tormented her.

She felt the urge to see Petyr. His bedchamber was at the end of the corridor. But what would she tell him? _I’ve had a nightmare?_ She didn’t want to sound childish. This had been a difficult week for Petyr too.

Lord Royce had stayed in the castle all week because he wanted to make sure that Robin was alright after his mother’s death. At least this was what he’d said. Although there was no evidence against Petyr, Lord Royce distrusted him. It was written all over his face. Sansa had had to reveal to the council her identity in order to save Petyr so she couldn’t pretend to be her niece anymore. Since the trial they hadn’t seen each other in private. Sansa knew that they couldn’t raise suspicion, but she missed him. She missed their walks, their talks. Gods, she even missed the way he teased her and how he raised his eyes in amusement whenever she teased him back.

And his touch. Sansa flustered remembering the occasions in which he’d gently brushed her arm with his fingers or took her hand. She remembered the day she’d become Alayne. The softness of Petyr’s touch when he’d swept her hair to one side, exposing her bare neck. Her shivers running down her spine as he’d applied the dye. How she’d tightened her jaw in order to suppress her moans when he washed her hair afterwards. The way he’d massaged her scalp… Gods. It had felt so wonderful.

And the kiss. It has been the reason Lysa had almost killed her, yet Sansa didn’t regret it. The way he’d cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers… The cold she’d felt had vanished right away.

 _What’s happening to me?_ Sansa sat up in her bed. What’s happening between Petyr and me?  
*

The next morning when Sansa entered the dining room, Petyr was already there, sat at the table, though he hadn’t started to eat breakfast. He was waiting for her.

“Alayne.” His eyes lit up, and he rose to his feet to pull out the chair next to him. He seemed in a very good moon. Probably Lord Royce’s departure had much to do with it. 

She glanced at the tray with lemon cakes in the center of the table, beside the basket with pomegranates. Petyr must have asked the cook to make them for her. Sansa gave him a smile. She appreciated the gesture, but she wasn’t hungry.

Petyr must notice something in her expression for he knit his brows. 

“What’s wrong, sweetling? Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I haven’t slept very well,” she admitted averting her eyes. She startled when he brushed her chin with his thumb, his touch catching her off guard.

“Since when?” he asked softly.

Of course, he didn’t believe she’d had only a bad night. Sansa looked at him again and answered:

“Since Lysa’s death.” 

His thumb caressed his chin and he looked apologetic. 

“I’m so sorry. I know we have barely talked these past few days. I wish I could have spent more time with you, but Lothor was watching us.”

“I know. Don’t worry.”

“You should have told me that you’d been trouble sleeping, though. I could have given you a small dose of sweetsleep, just for this time. I don’t like the idea of using it, but you needed to rest.” His hand moved to her right shoulder, and he squeezed it lightly. “You _need_ to rest.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want to be given sweetsleep. I don’t need it.” She couldn’t hide the frustration in her voice.

Petyr lifted her chin gently and stared into her eyes.

“Then what do you need?”

A flush spread across her cheeks.

“Nothing.”

“Sweetling…” He tilted his head. Sansa could tell that he’d wanted to say her true name instead.

_He cannot. The servants could hear him. I must be Alayne all the time._

“I’m alright,” she insisted.

He remained quiet. Sansa held his gaze. It was a stupid idea and he would probably refuse.

“You can tell me, whatever it is,” he finally said, after a while. 

Sansa took a deep breath.

“I just… I just thought that if I could sleep with you, just for tonight, perhaps… Perhaps it could drive away the nightmares.” She turned her face, embarrassed. There it was. She had told him that she wanted to sleep with him. She was a maiden. She had never shared a bed with a man. Her septa would be horrified if she had heard her.

Petyr cupped her cheek tenderly.

“Have you been having nightmares since Lysa’s death?” 

The caring in his voice moved her. She looked at him again.

“Yes.”

“Would you like to try and sleep now?”

“Yes.” The word spilled from her mouth immediately. Gods if she finally could. She was so tired that she had trouble keeping her eyes open.

“Alright.” He moved her hand away from her cheek. “Come with me.”

“What?” Sansa blinked. “But, what about you? You haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement for a brief instant.

“Neither have you.” He paused and reached for her hand. “Don’t worry, sweetling. I’ll eat something later.”

Petyr led her to his bedchamber. She had never been there before. If Lysa had caught her there… 

_Did you open your legs for him?_

The room was warm, and it smelled of mint, ink, parchment and soap. It smelled of him, Sansa thought, and she blushed when her eyes settled on the bed. He noticed it.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded. He let go of her hand and walked towards his desk. He opened a drawer and grabbed a small bottle that contained an ointment.

“This is a mix of herbs for sleep,” he explained. “I use it sometimes and it has been helpful so far.”

“I didn’t know that you’d also trouble sleeping sometimes. I’m sorry.”

How many nights did he have been tossing and turning? And how many nights since he had smuggled her out of King’s Landing?

“Don’t worry.” Petyr smiled gently and he added in a playful tone: “But don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Sansa couldn’t help but smile. 

“Would you like to try it?” he asked then.

“Alright. Where should I…?”

“I rub it on my chest, but I’ve also heard that it’s good to rub it on your back. I could do it for you, if you like. Give you a back massage. Perhaps it would help you relax.”

Sansa pictured his hands rubbing the ointment on her back, and a warm sensation spread in her lower belly. She shivered. No, she didn’t think a massage would help her relax, yet she nodded. Petyr smiled then and extended his hand. When she took it, he led her to the bed.

“Lie on your stomach.”

She crawled into his bed. It was happening. This wasn’t a dream or an illusion. It was real.

Petyr stood next to her. He set the bottle on the nightstand before asking:

“May I Unlace your dress? Just unlace it. You don’t need to take it off.” 

“Yes,” she whispered, her face resting on the pillow.

“Thank you.” He leaned forward, and Sansa held her breath. As soon as she felt his hands brushing against the laces, she closed her eyes. 

His movements were slow and careful as he untied the laces. Sansa focused on her breath and tried to relax her body, but it wasn’t easy, not when he was touching her.

He paused once he finished. He didn’t speak, but Sansa knew what he was thinking. What he was looking at.

Her corset. 

“You can unlace it too,” she said in a low voice. 

“Thank you.” He waited a few seconds before doing it, as if he wanted to make sure that she didn’t regret her words. 

This time his touch felt more intimate. Every time his fingertips brushed her skin, Sansa held her breath. Gods. How was she going to react when he gave her the massage?

Once her corset was loose, Petyr parted it unhurriedly. Sansa’s heart was pounding hard in her chest. She suppressed the urge to bury her face in the pillow. _He’s doing it on purpose. He wants me to feel every brush of his fingers._

When the air brushed against her bare back, she trembled. 

“Are you cold, sweetling?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” He opened the bottle. “Close your eyes and try to relax. You can always stop me if you don’t like it.”

“Alright.” Sansa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but tremble when he placed his hands on her bare back, above her kidneys. 

“Shhh relax, sweetling, relax.” He kept his hands there. Sansa knew that he was giving her time to get used to the touch. No man had caressed her back before. She had never allowed a man to unlace her corset before.

Petyr spoke again after a pause: “Do you like the scent?”

She nodded, trying to calm her heart beat. 

“Good. That’s good. It smells sweet, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” 

“What does it remind you of?”

“Hmm.” She tried to ignore the ticklish feeling in her belly and focus on the scent instead. “Honey? And cinnamon.” She inhaled deeply. “And it also smells of almonds.”

“And don’t you notice some notes of geranium?” His thumbs started drawing little circles on her back.

“Hmm. It has a floral aroma certainly. But I’m not sure what geraniums smell like.”

“No? I can’t believe it, sweetling.”

Sansa let out a small laugh.

“It’s true.”

“Well, I’ll have to remedy that, then.” His hands moved up slowly as he added: “I’ll ask the gardener to plant geraniums in front of the castle. Blue, rose, red, lilac. It will be a beautiful sight when they bloom. Would you like that?”

Sansa smiled, picturing the flowers. Their bright colors contrasting the grey tones of the rocks.

“Yes, I’d like it very much.”

“Good.” His hands moved up to her ribs, and a breathless sound left her lips.

“That tickles.” She giggled. 

She could almost feel his smile.

“I’m sorry, sweetling.”

“No, you aren’t,” she said smiling.

His hands pressed down a little before moving up to her shoulders, and Sansa arched her back slightly. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he said in a low, reverent tone.

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She gripped the pillow, wanting to cover her face. The way her body was reacting to his touch, to his words, to his voice… She had never experienced something like that. Not even when they had kissed in the snow. This felt much more intimate even though he hadn’t kissed her yet.

Yet. Gods, she was expecting him to kiss her again. What was happening to her?

“You’re still tense, sweetling. Relax.” Petyr massaged her shoulders gently. “Breathe. Isn’t this pleasant?”

Sansa let out her breath slowly.

“Yes. It is.”

His hands continued massaging her shoulders in circular motions, over and over again. A silence fell over the room. After a while Sansa began to relax and she was less and less conscious of his hands against her skin. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she almost wished to stay awake.

_Just a little longer…_

Later, when he stopped, she let out a small whine of protest and she heard him chuckle. 

“Shhh, sleep, sweetling. You need it.”

She couldn’t open her eyes. She moved her arm desperately, trying to grab his hand. She didn’t want him to leave.

“Stay with me. Please,” she murmured.

“Of course.” 

“Here. In the bed. Please. I need to feel you next to me.” She must be dreaming already for she had never been so bold in her life.

“Alright.” His voice sounded a little husky.

She felt him crawling into the bed and pulling up the blanket. For the first time since she had arrived in The Eyrie, she felt safe. When he wrapped his arm around her waist, she curled up and smiled contently.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetling?” His breath was warm. She pressed her bare back to his chest and sighed.

“Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this second part longer so the story will finally have another chapter. I'll post it this week. Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and suscriptions! :-)

When Sansa opened her eyes, the sun was setting. A ray of light entered through the room. Soft orange colors bathed the carpet; the tiny particles suspended in the air looked like dust of stars.

Petyr’s arm was still wrapped around her waist. She could feel the soft movements of his rib cage as he breathed. He seemed completely relaxed, and Sansa wondered if he was asleep. She wanted to turn around to see his expression. He was always so cautious when he was awake... He never let his guard down, not even with her, though sometimes she could see beyond the wall he had built up around himself. She could notice the subtle changes in his voice, the flicker of emotion in his eyes when they were alone.

He was Petyr with her. Not Littlefinger. 

Sansa pressed herself closer to him unconsciously. His body was so warm. If only they could sleep together again…

“Sweetling.” His voice startled her.

 _Oh, no. I shouldn’t have moved. Now he’ll get up._ Sansa let out a sigh. The ray of light vanished as the sun hid. Now the only source of light was the fireplace.

“I’m sorry,” she said as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. “Did I wake you up?”

She felt his breath against her neck.

“No,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve been awake for a little while.”

_Oh._

She didn’t know what to say. How long had he been awake? Had he remained quiet for her sake?

“How are you feeling, now?” he asked.

“Much better, thank you.” For the first time in days, she wasn’t tired. She had slept for more than ten hours straight. Almost half a day. She found it hard to believe, but she just had to look at the sky to see the evidence. It had gotten dark. 

“Did you have any nightmares?”

“No,” she answered.

“Good.” The mattress creaked lightly and before she could realize what was happening, she felt his lips on her temple, barely brushing against her skin. Then he pulled away.

“We should get up and eat something,” he said.

Sansa nodded, a little disappointed, but she was hungry too. She sat up in the bed.

Petyr stood up and adjusted his clothes. She couldn’t help but smile when she glanced at his hair. He cared about his appearance so much: he chose the finest robes and wore his hair well-combed. However his hair was now disheveled. He would never attend a meeting like this. Probably he would never allow other people to see him like this. Only her. 

He lifted his face and saw her expression. The corner of his mouth twitched up.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She pressed her lips together, but when he raised an eyebrow in a playful manner, she laughed. “I was just looking at your hair.”

“What’s wrong with it?” He ran his hands through his grey temples.

“Nothing. It’s just a little disheveled.” She paused and could feel herself blushing when she added: “I like it.”

Her words caught him by surprise, she could tell. The amusement disappeared from his face, and he tilted his head.

“You are very kind,” he said finally.

“It’s not kindness. It’s true.” His reaction made her feel braver. He couldn’t think that she was just being kind. “I like the way you look now. I mean, not only now." She shook her head, frustrated. “I like your hair, no matter how it looks.”

Gods, what was she saying? _I like your hair, no matter how it looks?_

She wasn’t aware that he had approached her until she felt his hand on his shoulder.

“Sweetling.”

She jumped. Her eyes met his, her heart pounding fast, and she saw something in his gaze… Vulnerability? Amazement? Could it be that he didn’t know how she felt about him?

But... did she really know what she was feeling? She had never thought about it in depth. It made her feel embarrassed. Sansa had always been told that ladies shouldn’t show any signs of physical attraction, so she had come to believe that she shouldn’t feel desire, that it was wrong.

“Sweetling.” His fingers stroked her cheek, and she shivered. 

“Petyr.” Her voice sounded like a plea.

He leaned forward slowly, so slowly, until his face was a few inches from hers. Sansa closed her eyes and sighed when his mouth parted hers gently. His tongue caressed her upper lip one, two, three times before touching hers, and she found herself melting.

He pulled away and took a deep breath as if trying to regain his control. Sansa noticed that his chest was moving faster now. Their kiss had affected him too. He held out his hand to her.

“Let’s go to eat something.”

She nodded and took his hand. Then she remembered that her corset and her dress were unlaced, so she placed her hand on her chest before standing up. Her gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

“Would you like me to tie them?” Petyr asked.

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled and turned her back on him.

“I intend to keep my word,” he said then.

Sansa knitted her brows.

“What?”

“You asked me to sleep with you tonight. I haven’t forgotten.”

 _Oh. That._ Sansa tried to bite back a smile, but she didn’t succeed. 

She was going to share a bed with him again. And after spending so many hours sleeping today, she didn’t think she could fall asleep tonight. 

It was perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for comments, kudos, bookmarks and suscriptions! I hope you enjoy the final chapter :-)

Petyr and Sansa didn’t run into anyone on their way to the kitchen. The servants must have retired to their rooms already, and Robin never left his bedchamber after dark. He thought there were ghosts in the corridors at night, waiting for its chance to take over a human body.

Sansa was certain that he hadn’t come with this story. He must have heard it anywhere. Perhaps Lysa had told him so he didn’t wander around the castle in the darkness and accidentally injured himself. It made sense. If a servant had told him such an awful story, Robin had probably tattled on them to his mother. 

It was cruel to frighten a child, no matter how good the intentions were, Sansa thought. And it was cruel to treat Robin like a baby. He had never been allowed to mature, and now that her mother was dead, he was completely defenseless. Sansa wondered how his life would be from now on. The world was harsh and only the players had a chance to survive.

Petyr set the candlelight on the table when they entered the kitchen. Someone had put the basket of pomegranates and oranges in the center of the table, beside a rectangular pan covered by a cloth. A pleasant smell came from the tray. Sansa’s stomach panged. Petyr lifted the cloth, revealing a pie. 

“The cook must have baked it this morning,” he said. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yes, please.”

Sansa took two glasses from the cupboard, wondering if he would drink tonight. He usually had a glass with his evening meal. Only one. “A few sips of alcohol make you experience a pleasant tingling in your body, but many gulps will cause you to black out, sweetling” he’d told her once. Sansa knew that he’d been referring to the awful incident from his past, but she hadn’t said anything. The memories still haunted him.

She felt a pang in her stomach that wasn’t caused by her hunger. _Stop_ , she told herself. _Don’t think about sad things. This is a happy moment. He’s safe, and you too. You’re about to have dinner together. And afterwards..._ She blushed slightly, picturing herself in his bed again.

“Dinner is ready.” Petyr’s voice brought her back to the present.

She turned to him again. He had already cut two slices of pie and set a jar of water on the table. _So he isn’t going to drink wine._

He pulled out a chair for her. The castle had never been so quiet since Sansa had been living there. No one was hollering or hurling things. No one was spying on them.

“Thank you.” Sansa set the glasses on the table before sitting down. 

“There’s also some cheese and walnuts in the pantry, if you like.” Petyr said as he filled the glasses with water. “And lemon cakes.”

She noticed a mischievous look on his face and bite back a smile.

“I’d like to have one lemon cake,” she said. 

The corners of his mouth twitched.

“I’ll bring the tray.”

*

They went to the library after dinner, and Petyr showed her a large and heavy book about the history of the House Arryn. Heirs, marriages, battles, occupations, deaths. The historical facts were mixed with legends, and Sansa found it fascinating. 

“Do you think there’s some supernatural force safeguarding us?” Sansa asked him after they read a passage about a lord who survived a battle miraculously. Apparently, no sword, spear or mace had cut him.

“Are you asking me if I believe in the gods?” Petyr said softly, cupping her cheek.

She leaned into his touch.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he answered finally, his voice so faint that Sansa barely heard him. “I don’t know if there’s an invisible force out there or if they favor certain people in case they exist.” His hand moved up, and he began to stroke a lock of her hair. “What I know is that we all need to find our strengths and improve them if we want to survive the Game. Some people have a massive size and they can knock down their enemies with one punch. Others belong to a Great House, and everybody knows they are powerful. The rest of us, however, have to find subtler ways to prosper in life.”

He had found those ways. Petyr had no wealth when he was a boy. He’d suffered terrible injuries, not only physical, and he'd been between Life and Death.

But he had survived. He had survived and the past was gone. For good.

Sansa touched his face.

“We are together,” she said. “Petyr, we are together, and we can survive the Game. I know”

“Sweetling…” 

“Petyr.” She caressed his jaw. His stubble made her feel a faint tickle in her fingertips. His vulnerability made her heart sink. _No matter how powerful a man is. Everyone doubts and fears_. “Petyr.” She grazed the corner of his mouth. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” She corrected herself: “Well, unless you want me to leave, of course. I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep…” 

Her next words died on her lips when he captured her mouth like a starving man.

She grabbed his robe, surprised by his reaction. He was answering her question without words. He was telling her how he felt and what he wanted.

She felt the vibration of his chest when he groaned against her mouth and it sent a jolt through her body. She had never felt this way. She had never though _she could_ feel this way. Petyr put his right hand on the back of her neck and deepened the kiss. Sansa pressed herself against him, trembling. How he could be such a good kisser?

“You are so beautiful.” He said pulling back. 

Sansa felt a blush spreading over her face.

“Thank you.” She wanted to keep kissing him. She wanted to allow him to take off her clothes. “Petyr.” She took his hand.

“Yes?”

“Could… Could we continue this in your bedchamber?” 

He caressed her hair.

“This? What do you mean, sweetling?” he murmured. “Do you want me to kiss you in the bed? To wrap my arm around your waist? Hmm?”

_He knows what I want, but he wants me to say it._

Sansa smiled and leaned forward to kiss his lips. Alright, she would tell him.

“You,” she whispered.

“Me?”

“I want you.”

 

*

He planted soft kisses on her neck and her jawline and hummed near her earlobe as he untied the laces of her dress. He was taking his time, making the heat spread through her body. He knew this was her first time.

Sansa loved his self-control. Many men would have ripped off her clothes as soon as they’d heard her words. But not Petyr. His fingertips hadn’t even brushed against her corset yet.

“Beautiful,” he murmured when her dress slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor. His mouth traveled along her collarbone, making her sigh. “Ah, that’s beautiful too. That lovely sound.” He nibbled her earlobe softly.

“Petyr.” She closed her eyes.

“Hmm?”

She turned to him and touched his face. Petyr kissed the palm of her hand. They’d overcome many things together. They’d saved each other. The world outside was dangerous, and the future was uncertain, but tonight they were safe.

“Are you cold?” he murmured. “Do you want me to put another log on the fire?”

“I’m alright.”

He smiled and placed her hands in his robe. 

“Would you like to help me undress?”

Sansa smiled too. He must think that she would feel more comfortable if he removed his clothes first.

“Yes.” 

He kissed her sweetly. Then he started unbuttoning his robe, and she helped him. Soon he was bare, and his mouth was again on hers. Sansa closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He placed his hands on her waist, and she felt his erection against her thigh. He was already aroused.

“You can touch me anywhere, sweetling,” he said kissing her neck.

Sansa caressed his shoulders and ran her fingers through his chest hair. She was inexperienced, but she wanted to show him what she felt for him. She moved her hand to his scar, and he froze.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She moved her hand away quickly. _I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve overstepped his boundaries._

“No.” He took her hand and brushed her fingertips against his scar. The skin was different there. The cut had been deep. It was a miracle he'd survived. “ Shhh. It’s alright. You can touch me anywhere. It caught me by surprise, that’s all. No one had ever done it before.”

“Are you sure?”

He pecked her lips. 

“Yes.”

Sansa tried to smile, but she felt a tightness in her throat. 

“I wish I could erase all the awful things that happened to you.”

“Shhh.” He cupped her face and kissed her. “Don’t let the past make you sad, sweetling. Not now.”

“I won’t.” She blinked.

“Now I’m going to make you feel good. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

They walked towards the bed and he asked her to lie on her stomach but this time he crawled into the bed too. Sansa tensed when he leaned over her. She’d heard many men preferred to do it from behind since it allowed them to move more freely. Would be Petyr one of those men?

“Relax,” he murmured kissing her shoulder. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. And I’d like to see your eyes when I’m inside you.”

His words made her blush and smile at the same time. He gave her a peck on the neck and started unlacing her corset.

“Did you like it when I washed your hair? The day you became Alayne.”

“Yes.” She missed her natural color, but she understood why she'd had to dye her hair, and Petyr had made the whole process very pleasant.

“I enjoyed it too. So much.” He kissed the spot under her jawline and breathed against her ear. “In fact, I was thinking about giving you a scalp massage again. What do you say?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my sweetling.”

He ran his hands through her hair before moving his fingertips from the back of her head to the front, and her toes curled.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” She sighed.

He drew small circles, applying a light pressure.

“Don’t hold back, sweetling. I love the sounds you make.”

He continued massaging her scalp for several minutes. Sansa didn't know where he'd learned to do that. He seemed to know all the sensitive areas of the body and what to do to cause the most amazing sensations.

“How was it?” He asked rubbing the spots behind her ears with his thumbs.

“Wonderful.” The tension from her neck and her head had vanished, and she felt lighter.

“I’m glad.” He moved his hands to her back and a wicked expression appeared on his face. “And what about this?” He tickled her ribs.

“Petyr!” Sansa let out a laughter.

He chuckled.

“Turn onto your back.”

She did so without hesitation. It was the first time she let him see her breasts and she didn’t feel the urge to cover herself. Petyr’s expression made her feel beautiful and safe. She took his hand and placed it in her left breast. 

“Oh, gods.” She closed her eyes when he started massaging it. He was making the heat inside her body grow more intense. He captured her lips and groaned softly as his tongue touched hers. What was he doing to her? How could he know so well the way to arouse her?

“May I kiss you between your legs?” He nibbled her jawline. 

What? She opened her eyes. She didn't know that men did so. Was this a usual thing? 

“I won’t do it if you don’t want,” he added and pulled back so she could see his face. “I know it’s hard to ignore the things your septa must have told you, but you have to believe me: There’s nothing shameful in it. Nothing. Feeling pleasure is not wrong.” He took her hand and placed it in her breast, then in her belly and lastly between her legs. Sansa blushed when she noticed how wet she was. Petyr kissed her lips tenderly without letting go of her hand. “Every inch of your body is beautiful. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’d like to try. But if I don’t like it…”

“Then you just have to tell me, and I’ll stop immediately. You have my word.”

“Alright.” She smiled.

He smiled back and started peppering kisses along her body.

“Wait.”

He paused and looked at her again, his expression kind. 

“Will it be enjoyable enjoyable for you?” She didn’t want him to do it only to please her.

“My sweet Sansa.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Yes. It will.”

 _He had said my true name._ This was her last coherent thought for as soon as she felt his lips there, everything around her melted away.

When she could open her eyes again, her body was still shaking. She extended her arms, and Petyr settled between her legs. He was panting, but he looked very pleased with himself. _My wicked mockingbird._

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said.

Sansa caressed his cheek fondly. Then her hand traveled down his body. She wanted to touch him too.

“May I?” She asked.

“Yes.”

He shivered when she did. He was so hard, and Sansa wondered if it was painful. She moved her hand tentatively. She had never imagined his skin would be so soft. She looked at him.

“Very good.” He panted, trying to keep his eyes open. “Just a little harder, please.”

She hesitated.

“You won’t hurt me,” he added, giving her a smile, and took her hand to show her. 

Soon he was groaning against her neck, and his sounds were making the ache between her legs almost unbearable. Sansa wondered if he knew it and if this was precisely one of the reasons why he was being so loud. Anyway, she loved to hear him. He was feeling pleasure and that was wonderful. She kissed his cheek and pressed herself against him, trying to relieve her ache. 

“Sweetling.” He stopped her hand and took a deep breath. Slowly, he pulled back.

“Did it feel good?” She wanted to hear him say it.

“So good. But I think your body is ready for more.” He nuzzled her neck.

She let out her breath and ran her fingers through his hair. Her heart was pounding hard.

He raised his head and met her eyes.

“But do you want to continue? We can stop now.”

“I want to continue, Petyr.”

He gave her a sweet kiss.

“I’ll be gentle. I promise. You have nothing to fear.”

“I know. I’m not afraid.” Her septa had told her it could hurt, but she was certain that her first time would be good regardless. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll go slowly. Just try to relax. Alright?”

“Alright.” 

He guided himself inside her. Sansa wrapped her arms around his body and breathed. She felt a slight discomfort as her muscles were stretching, but it wasn’t painful. He was going slowly as he’d promised, careful not to crush her.

Once he was fully inside her, he let out his breath and kissed her cheek.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes." She could feel his body trembling slightly. "You can move if you want.”

"Yes." His groan made her shiver. Slowly he pulled out and pushed in, his eyes fixed on hers. He was gauging her reactions, trying to find out the right angle and the right pace for her.

It felt a little strange at first, but little by little the friction caused a burning sensation in her lower belly, and it reminded her of what she felt when he'd kissed her between her legs. She sighed and smiled when he pressed his lips to hers, and she moaned when his hand helped her get there.

"Petyr."

He thrusted inside her a few times more before tensing.

"Sansa." He shuddered abover her.

She hugged him. She could feel his heart beating, and she wondered what he was thinking. He wrapped his arm around her body after pulling out of her carefully. She buried her face on his chest.

"Are you alright?" He asked caressing her back.

"Yes."

"I won't let them harm you. I swear it."

Them. She knew who was referring to. The Lannisters. 

"I know," she said. 

"One day, you won't have to hide anymore, and The North will be yours."

Sansa pulled back to stare into his eyes. His gaze seemed sincere. Did he really believe it? What was he going to do to make this picture reality? What was he willing to risk?

She grabbed his hand.

"Will be you by me side?"

He squeezed it gently.

"Yes, my love. Always."


End file.
